


By Any Other Name

by Miko



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-25
Updated: 2007-01-25
Packaged: 2017-10-21 09:38:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miko/pseuds/Miko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do you do when the thing you want most in all the world is dumped right into your lap... and you're not allowed to have it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	By Any Other Name

**Author's Note:**

> I know almost nothing about the Witness Protection Program in the States, and I don't even know if they _have_ an equivalent in Japan, let alone anything about it. I'm sure I got a million details wrong, but I did my best.

The space in the economy class of an airplane could only be described as 'cramped' at the best of times, but to Shouichi it felt like the walls were literally closing in on him. Gripping the arm rests of his seat so hard his knuckles were white, he closed his eyes and concentrated on forcing himself to breath normally. The plane wasn't even in the air... hell, it wasn't even on the runway yet, they were still loading passengers. He needed to calm down.

He'd never been a good flyer, and avoided planes whenever possible. The trip from Tokyo to Los Angeles when his family had moved to the States had been one long panic attack, and he'd sworn he would never fly again. Unfortunately, his decision to go to Harvard meant that if he wanted to visit his family in Los Angeles, he pretty much had to take a plane. Some part of him had hoped that frequent exposure to flying would calm what he _knew_ was an irrational fear, but to his dismay it seemed to be getting worse.

"Hey. Are you okay?" someone asked from his left, settling into the aisle seat beside him. The voice had a heavy Japanese accent, and sounded vaguely familiar.

Swallowing hard, Shouichi forced himself to open his eyes and try to give his seatmate a reassuring smile. "Yes, I'm..."

'Fine', he'd meant to say, but the word died before he could utter it as he gaped at the other man in total shock. Sitting next to him was none other than Shishido Ryou, a pro tennis player who had been gaining notice recently as he started winning tournaments. Only a truly avid tennis fan would recognize him at this point, but if he kept on the way he had been it wouldn't be long before casual fans started to know who he was as well.

Of course, Shouichi avoided tennis much the same way he avoided planes, though his reason for doing so couldn't have been any more opposite. No, he recognized Shishido for a completely different reason... because his name hadn't always been Shouichi Okada.

Not so very many years ago, he had been Ohtori Choutarou, and the man now sitting beside him had been the centre of his life.

"I... I..." Floundering desperately, Shouichi's panic now had an entirely new source. Had Shishido recognized him? Granted, he looked very different now. He'd dyed his hair black to make himself less recognizable, and his face had matured a lot. But if anyone would be able to recognize him despite the changes, it was his former partner.

How could this have _happened_? What were the odds of the two of them randomly meeting on a plane, more than six years after they'd last seen each other?

Shishido's expression didn't show the shock or anger Shouichi would expect if he'd been recognized, just honest concern. Of course, it was a long flight from Boston to L.A., he'd have plenty of time to figure out who he was sitting beside. "You okay?" he asked again, raising an eyebrow. "Not good flyer?" His English was strained, but much better than it had been when Shouichi had known him.

"I'm f-fine, I just don't like planes," Shouichi finally managed to force the words past the constriction in his throat. Then he cursed himself, because he'd unthinkingly spoken in Japanese. If he'd stuck to English, it would have been one more barrier to Shishido recognizing him.

Shishido's face had lit up at this indication that he didn't have to continue to try to speak in English. "You're Japanese? I wasn't sure," he said in his native tongue. "It's hard to tell in America whether someone would actually understand me or just look like they should. You speak like a native."

"My family moved to America when I was little," Shouichi told him, the lie coming easy now after so many years of practice. And it was a good thing he had a talent for languages, because it had taken a lot of work to get his accent to the point where he could be accepted as a nearly-native English speaker. "But we still speak Japanese at home, my parents didn't want me to forget it."

"Well, that's lucky, because otherwise I probably wouldn't have understood much of what you'd said as an answer," Shishido chuckled. "I can get by dealing with English in tennis tournaments these days, but my conversation isn't so great. I'm Shishido Ryou, by the way. Nice to meet you."

"Shouichi Okada," Shouichi replied. "Uh, Okada Shouichi to you, I guess. I'm out of the habit of saying it the Eastern way. You're a tennis player?" Maybe if he could keep Shishido talking about himself, the older man wouldn't have a chance to realize just who Shouichi really was.

"Yeah, I'm on my way home from a tournament," Shishido agreed. "I've been pro for about four years now, but only the really big names can afford anything but economy class tickets."

"Must be a pain, if you have to play soon after a long trip," Shouichi sympathised. "Did you..."

At that moment the plane lurched, and the stewardess began the standard safety lecture. Shouichi gulped and remembered why he'd been panicked in the first place. Talking to Shishido had made him forget momentarily that he was on a plane, but now they were _moving_.

"Oh, gods," he said faintly, clutching at the seat again. "Oh, gods, I hate flying. And _don't_ quote me the statistics about how it's more likely to die by being hit by a bus," he added as Shishido opened his mouth. "I _know_ it's irrational. That doesn't help."

"I wasn't going to," Shishido laughed, holding up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Honest. I was going to ask why you're flying if you hate it so much."

"My parents live in California," Shouichi explained through gritted teeth as the plane picked up speed. "They'd never forgive me if I didn't come home for summer holidays. But I swear, next year I'm taking a bus. I don't care _how_ long it takes!"

For a long time Shouichi had been angry at his parents, especially his father, for the circumstances that had forced them to move so far away and change their identities, even though he'd known it was for their own protection. Having the yakuza gunning for you was no joke, and there was nowhere in Japan they could have gone to hide.

Having to leave everything of his life behind and start over had been unbelievably painful. Not only because he'd literally vanished overnight without a chance to say goodbye or explain to any of his friends, though abandoning Shishido like that had nearly killed him. But in order to better hide themselves, they'd had to give up _everything_ that might identify them... and for Shouichi that meant tennis and music, the two things most important in his life, were barred to him forever.

Still, it wasn't his father's fault, not really. It was his sister's abduction that had triggered their flight from Japan, and losing her had brought them closer together as a family despite how angry Shouichi had been with them. He was the only child his parents had left, and no matter how well he'd adjusted to his new home country he wasn't American enough not to honour his parents. So he went home for every holiday, and endured the flights despite how much he hated them.

"I hope your parents appreciate how devoted their son is!" Shishido said. "I'm not sure I'd be going home every year if I was in your position and as scared of planes as you seem to be."

The plane bumped once, twice, and then was in the air, rising sharply. The sudden change in pressure made Shouichi's ears pop, and he closed his eyes again. It didn't help, only made him nauseatingly aware of every little jolt and shudder of the plane, and he quickly opened them. Great. It looked like this might be one of the trips he got airsick on, as well as being panicked. Could this day get any worse?

"So you're a student? What are you going to school for?" Shishido asked him, apparently trying to distract him. He did seem genuinely curious, though. Shouichi wondered when his partner had developed a tendency to random acts of kindness and curiosity about strangers. Not to say that Shishido had been a jerk - well, not _after_ his humiliating defeat and rise back to the Regulars - but he had always been very focused. Not self-centred, exactly, just uncaring of anything that didn't affect him or the things and people important to him.

It took Shouichi three tries before he could answer, and his voice was shaky when he did manage it. "Law. At Harvard. My dad was ecstatic when I was accepted." It was a risk for him to go into his father's former profession, but only a small one. _He_ had never shown much interest in law previously, and he'd be practising here in the States instead of in Japan.

"I bet!" Shishido whistled. "I'm impressed. Me, I left university after a year and went pro instead. I like history, but a history degree doesn't get you much of anything. And anyway, I like tennis more."

"Tell me about being a pro player? How was the tournament?" Shouichi asked, hoping to get the topic of conversation off of him and also to distract himself. He'd been unable to avoid the temptation to follow his former teammates' careers; Shishido and Atobe had both gone pro, though Atobe was doing better so far. But it was still a subject that interested him, despite being a painful reminder of what he'd lost and could never have again.

"Ah... it'd probably be boring to anyone who doesn't follow tennis," Shishido shrugged. "Do you play?"

Oh, crap. Shouichi winced, grateful the gesture and his hesitation would probably be taken as part of his reaction to flying. Maybe this hadn't been such a great conversation choice after all. What should he say? The last thing he wanted was Shishido connecting him with tennis, but he didn't think he could be believably ignorant about a sport that he knew so much about.

"I, uh..." Inspiration struck. "I played a bit when I was younger, but I was injured and had to drop it," he lied. "For a long time it was too painful to think about, so I don't really follow the tennis world much. But I'll understand what you're talking about."

"You asked for it, then. Don't say I didn't warn you," Shishido laughed. "I'm probably gonna talk your ear off, tennis is the one thing I get excited about."

Somehow, Shouichi managed a faint smile in response to that as Shishido launched into a description of life as a pro and the last tournament in particular. The older man quickly became animated, gesturing to describe tennis plays, his eyes alight with passion. It was almost painful to watch, because it reminded Shouichi of so many days they'd spent together, discussing their game and their opponents and how to improve their play.

He'd always loved to watch Shishido when the older boy got carried away. The fire and drive in his partner's expression had been inspiring, and Shouichi - then Choutarou - had been motivated by it every time.

It had also been the basis for his rather large crush on the older boy. That part hadn't changed either; Shishido was still beautiful when he was excited, his blue eyes flashing and his gestures making his dark hair flare around his face. He'd grown it out again and was wearing it up in the high ponytail Shouichi remembered from junior high. He'd matured from an attractive boy into a _very_ attractive man, and Shouichi realized that despite having had several boyfriends over the years, he apparently wasn't as over Shishido as he'd thought he was.

Flushing, he bit his lip and hoped his feelings weren't showing in his expression. If this had been six years ago he'd have had no hope of hiding what he was thinking; Shishido always could read him like a book. It was part of what had made them such a good doubles team, but it had also had the potential to be embarrassing. With any luck, though, either he'd have gotten better at hiding his feelings or Shishido wouldn't know how to read him any more.

He did his best to listen to Shishido and ask intelligent questions whenever the older man paused, but despite his best efforts his mind wandered to the last time they'd been together. It had been his junior year of high school, just before the Regionals. They'd been training hard, every day, and spending almost every moment outside of sleeping and class in each other's company. It was the first time they'd been able to officially play together since Shishido had graduated from junior high, and they'd been determined to earn and keep the D1 position on the team.

On that last day, not wanting to have anything between them that might damage their synchronicity, Shishido had confronted him about his crush. They'd been dancing around the subject for months, each of them fairly convinced that his feelings were returned but unwilling to risk the partnership by asking and being wrong. Finally being able to admit to his obsession with his partner had been a huge weight off his chest, and having the confirmation that it wasn't unrequited had made him happier than any tournament victory could have. What came after that had been even better.

Gods, he really needed to stop thinking about this, Shouichi realized as he felt himself getting overheated. Those first fumbling - and then not so fumbling - attempts at kissing hadn't gone very far, but it had been far enough that he'd headed home that night with his blood singing in his veins and feeling like he was walking on air.

And then it had all come crashing down around him, as he'd come home to find his mother sobbing and his father arguing with the police. His sister had been kidnapped by the yakuza, and that had triggered their flight to America... and he'd never even gotten a chance to say goodbye to Shishido.

"...next tournament is going to be close to home, but I'm going to have a tougher time winning that one," Shishido was saying, apparently not noticing Shouichi's distraction. Or, more likely, chalking it up to the fear of flying. "Atobe's going to be playing, a friend of mine from school and my former team captain. I've never beaten him yet." The older man shrugged. "He may have a surprise or two coming this time, though. I've been training hard. And since it's so close to Tokyo Jirou will probably come watch, and it'll be good to see him again."

"Jirou?" Lost in his own thoughts about the past, the sudden mention of his old teammate nearly startled Shouichi into giving himself away. He bit his tongue, clamping down on the automatic questions about how the sleepy player was doing and what he was up to these days. He hadn't gone pro, but that was all Shouichi knew.

Thankfully Shishido took it as a question about who the other man was. "Another former teammate, though he only plays recreationally now. He's a damn good player, he can still beat me one out of three even though he's not training professionally, but... well, he was too sleepy to go pro, if you can believe that." He chuckled, and despite himself Shouichi's mouth twitched in a smile. "He's a narcoleptic, and he was only half-awake for most of his matches. When he _did_ wake up, though, it was like he was a totally different person. Like he saved up all the energy a normal person would have used through the whole day, and crammed it into a couple of hours."

Despite himself Shouichi laughed briefly. Gods, Jirou had been such a human bouncy ball when awake, and yet he could fall asleep with hardly three seconds of warning. How many times had he found himself 'volunteered' for pillow duty when he was sitting on a bench and Jirou abruptly plopped down beside him? If the older boy hadn't been so genuinely sweet at heart, Shouichi probably would have disliked him for the constant invasions of his personal space. But it was almost impossible not to like Jirou.

"He sounds like quite a character," he commented sincerely. He was glad to hear that his former teammate was doing well. He wished he dared ask about the others. He might not have been truly close to anyone but Shishido, but they'd been his teammates both in high school and junior high.

Maybe he could be sneaky about it? "Sounds like you must have had a pretty close bond with your old teammates," Shouichi said, as casually as he could considering the fear he was still trying to ignore. "You seem to still be in contact with a lot of them."

To his surprise Shishido's eyes darkened, and his expression shut down. Shouichi blinked, wondering what on earth could have prompted that reaction - and then could have slapped himself at Shishido's next words. "Yeah. Some of 'em," the older man said with an awkward shrug and a pained attempt at a smile. "It was kind of a cut-throat system, not designed for making friends. But... well. Y'know how it is. You lose touch with people." He said the last in a dry tone that was heavy in irony.

Shouichi winced. Wonderful. He couldn't have said anything more calculated to make Shishido think of _him_ if he'd tried. "Uh... yeah, that does happen," he agreed belatedly, trying to think of something to change the subject with. Not tennis, they needed to get off that topic now. Ask about Shishido's family? He could...

All his racing thoughts flew straight out of his head as the plane banked and began to descend. The captain came on over the intercom, talking about the weather and conditions in L.A., but Shouichi didn't hear a word of it. He gripped the seat arms tight again and tried not to hyperventilate.

"Whoa, hey, take it easy," Shishido said sympathetically. "It's almost over, we'll be down any minute."

"I know," Shouichi replied, his voice more than a little shaky. "Believe me, I know. Repeating that to myself is the only way I get through it." Landing and taking off were by far the worst parts... especially for this flight, because he'd actually been doing a pretty good job distracting himself listening to Shishido. He couldn't believe five hours had gone by already.

"Man, you _really_ hate planes, don't you?" Shishido shook his head. "You're braver than I am, to fly like this. Ah, brace yourself, here comes the tarmac," he added, glancing out the window over Shouichi's shoulder.

Instinctively Shouichi obeyed, his muscles tensing up as he braced for impact. The plane touched down with a bump; not the best landing he'd ever been through, but certainly not the worst. When it remained firmly on the ground instead of bouncing again and started to slow, Shouichi finally convinced himself to begin to relax.

"I'm surprised you didn't leave dents in the plastic," Shishido teased him when he managed to pry his hands off the armrests. Shouichi gave him a shaken but sheepish smile.

"Yeah, I'm always a little surprised by that, too," he admitted hoarsely. "I guess they make it strong because otherwise nervous flyers like me would be breaking them constantly. Thanks, by the way. You really helped, I hardly noticed most of the flight."

"I dunno, you seemed pretty out of it for most of it," Shishido laughed and rubbed at the back of his head in embarrassment at the thanks. "I didn't do much but babble."

"No, you helped," Shouichi insisted, ducking his head. "I'm usually a quivering ball of panic by the end of a flight. The stewardesses have had to pry me out of my seat on occasion."

"Right, now I know you're exaggerating," Shishido snickered. He stood and reached up to the overhead compartment, fishing out a battered travel case. "Is this blue bag behind mine yours?" he asked, and fetched it down when Shouichi nodded. "Well, it's been an interesting flight, that's for sure," he commented as they waited for other people to file past them down the aisle to the exit. "You kept me entertained, too. I was expecting to get stuck beside someone who, at the very least, wouldn't speak my language."

There was absolutely no suspicion in Shishido's eyes, and Shouichi breathed a sigh of relief for more than just the fact that he was about to get off the plane. Somehow he'd gotten through the whole flight without Shishido realizing the truth. And now he had a whole new memory of his former best friend to cherish - even if it did make the old ache feel stronger because he had fresh salt to rub into it. He only wished he could have somehow found a way to say 'goodbye' properly while he had the chance. He would probably never see Shishido again.

"Are you flying out right away?" he asked as they were finally able to move out into the aisle. "Or do you have a long layover?"

"Actually, they cut it pretty close," Shishido replied with a grimace. "I've only got about an hour to get to the gate for my next flight. At least I don't have to change terminals, so I won't have to go through security again."

"Well, good luck," Shouichi told him sincerely, hoping his regret didn't show too clearly. "With the flight back to Tokyo, and your tournaments. I'll keep an eye out for you in the papers."

"You do that," Shishido agreed, grinning at him. "And next time I'm playing near you, drop by to see the game and we'll go for a drink after or something. I'll be interested to see what you're like when you're not half paralysed with fear."

"I will," Shouichi promised, though he knew he would do no such thing. He'd already risked far too much with this one accidental contact. There was no way he could deliberately go looking for his old friend.

Besides, he thought it might just about kill him to go watch Shishido play. Never mind salt. That would be tearing the wound open anew, watching his partner play and wishing desperately he could be out there with him.

They collected their baggage and went their separate ways, parting with a wave from Shishido and a smile that was only slightly strained from Shouichi. Once he was certain the older man was out of sight, Shouichi sighed and rubbed his eyes, dropping all pretence of being anything but miserable.

What god had he angered - or pleased? - to cause this incredible coincidence? As wonderful as it had been to see and talk to Shishido again, even in the guise of a stranger, it had hurt still more.

LAX was a huge airport, and somehow despite having been here several times over the years Shouichi always managed to get himself lost. It didn't help that this time he got stuck because of an argument by two people who had crashed their baggage trolleys together and were blocking the hallway. Shouichi was too polite to shove rudely by the way most people were doing, and he even ended up helping to sort out the luggage.

He was finally walking towards the outside doors, debating whether he should risk public transportation or splurge on a cab, when he was startled to catch sight of Shishido again. Once they'd said goodbye he'd expected that would be the last of it, if Shishido's connection was that fast. Yet there the man undeniably was, sprawled into one of the linked chairs that passed for 'benches', with his luggage piled beside him and his tennis bag propped into the chair next to him.

"Shishido?" At the last moment he kept himself from adding '-san'. His voice had changed, but not _that_ much... there was probably no faster way to get Shishido to recognize him. The tennis pro looked up at the sound of his name, and his expression was distinctly unhappy. "Shouldn't you be on your plane?" Shouichi asked, wide-eyed. "Was it delayed? Don't tell me you missed it?"

"Sort of, on both counts," Shishido grumbled. "They overbooked the flight, and because I was late to check in I didn't get a seat. I have to wait for the next one, tomorrow morning at ten."

"What!" Shouichi exclaimed, dismayed. Overbooking was a practice of many airlines; any flight would have a certain number of people not show up for it, for one reason or another. So the airlines sold more tickets than they actually had seats for, counting on that average number of no-shows. Sometimes, though, too many people _did_ show up, and that left the latecomers with no choice but to wait for the next flight.

"Not the first time it's happened," Shishido sighed, and slumped further into his seat. "Probably not the last, either. I'm just glad this place has open restaurants and the like; last place I got stuck in was small enough that nothing was open twenty-four hours, and I nearly starved."

"But... you're not going to stay _here_ , are you?" Shouichi blinked. "It's only mid-afternoon in this time-zone. If your flight doesn't leave until that late in the morning, you could get a hotel..."

Shishido interrupted him with a laugh. "Yeah, right! Okada, I'll let you in on a little secret - being a pro in most sports doesn't pay much until you're a big enough name to start signing endorsement contracts. Oh, I've got some money saved up - in Tokyo, where I can't get at it. I used most of my American cash on the trip. I can get dinner and breakfast, but that's about it."

"Oh." Shouichi felt like an idiot. Of course he knew that. How many hours had the two of them spent excitedly plotting and planning how they would support themselves until they started gaining international recognition as a doubles team? "That sucks."

"Don't feel too sorry for me," Shishido waved off his concern. "Like I said, it's not the first time. I'll hang out in the restaurants for the night, and sleep on the plane tomorrow. I'm getting good at that."

"Sleeping is one thing I've never been able to do on planes," Shouichi replied wryly, and Shishido laughed again.

He shouldn't do it. He _knew_ it was a mistake, and he was going to regret it later. But Shouichi found himself opening his mouth and making the offer whether his head agreed with his heart or not. "You could come stay with me for the night," he said, kicking himself even before the words left his mouth. "You can check in for tomorrow's flight online tonight and guarantee yourself a spot, and then you wouldn't have to get up _too_ early to take a cab to the airport. That won't cost any more than breakfast and dinner."

"What?" Shishido looked surprised, and flustered. "Ah, hell, man, I can't put your family out like that. I mean, I appreciate the offer, but you barely know me!"

"Oh, I don't live with my family," Shouichi hastily assured him. "I have my own apartment, I sublet it to UCLA students during the school year. I love my parents, but four months in enforced close proximity would probably not do anything positive for our relationship, if you know what I mean."

"Heh, yeah, I hear you," Shishido agreed with an amused snort. "I moved out as soon as I could afford it. Before I could afford it, really. But still..."

"It's not an imposition," Shouichi insisted. "After you helped me through that flight, the least I can do is offer you crashing space for the night. Of course, I can't guarantee the state the apartment will be in; the last tenant left it a complete mess."

"Well..." Shishido looked reluctant, but clearly tempted. Shouichi couldn't blame him, as there really wasn't anywhere comfortable to sit for long periods of time in the airport. "All right, I won't make you twist my arm. If you're sure."

"I'm sure," Shouichi said, though the only thing he was sure of was that this was a bad idea. "Come on, let's find a cab."

It wasn't difficult to get one from the airport, though it was a good thing that Shishido travelled light or they wouldn't have been able to fit his bags in with Shouichi's. They ended up with the tennis bag over their laps as it was, and it left Shouichi with a bittersweet taste in his mouth. He wondered what had ever happened to his gear and Hyoutei bag; he'd been forced to leave it behind entirely.

Thankfully Shishido wasn't paying attention to his expression, being too busy staring out the window with interest. "Never been to L.A. before?" Shouichi asked, surprised.

"Not out of the airport, no," Shishido shook his head. "I've played some tournaments up closer to San Francisco, but not out of L.A. One of these days I really should get around to seeing the city."

"It's got its rough spots, but it's a good city for all that," Shouichi agreed with a smile. It had taken him a long time to get used to living in America, but L.A. was his home now as much as Tokyo had once been. He missed it when he was away - especially during the winters in Boston.

He passed the trip by pointing out the sights to Shishido, telling the older man as much as he could about each tourist spot they could see. It was nearly a half hour trip to his tiny apartment, but it seemed to fly by much as the plane trip had.

They unloaded their gear and Shouichi paid the cabbie before Shishido could try to; it would probably take everything the tennis pro had left to pay for the trip back to the airport in the morning, and Shouichi would have paid nearly the same amount whether he'd had Shishido with him or not.

"It's a little small," he apologized as they hauled their stuff up to the third floor. There was no elevator, something Shouichi only regretted when he was trying to get to and from the airport. Juggling his bags, he fished for his keys and unlocked the door, peering inside warily as he opened it.

"Oh, good," he sighed with relief. "Looks like my tenant this year actually cleaned up after herself. I picked a Chinese exchange student this time, hoping she'd be a little more polite than the last one. We'll have to order out, there won't be any food, but that's not a problem."

"This is small?" Shishido exclaimed, coming in behind him and looking around. "Geez, you _have_ been gone from Tokyo a long time, haven't you? I think you could fit my whole apartment into your living room, and have space left over."

Glancing around the open space, Shouichi laughed softly. It _was_ a big place by Tokyo standards, even though it was just the one main room, a tiny kitchen, equally tiny bathroom, and the bedroom. He'd been spoiled, living first in his family's big house in Tokyo and then here in America.

"There should be a futon in the linen closet," he said, dumping his bags into the bedroom and taking a quick look around there. "I'll check later. Uh, do you want something to drink? There should be a water filter in the fridge, at least."

"Sure, water would be good," Shishido agreed, toeing his shoes off at the door and setting his bags more neatly against one wall. "I hate getting jet lag, it's bad enough dealing with all the time zone changes. I feel like it should be a lot later than just after three... or maybe a lot earlier, I'm not sure I ever got off Tokyo time properly."

Chuckling, Shouichi went to the fridge to get the water filter, and blinked in surprise at the contents. "What on... earth?" The shelves were full of food, mostly raw ingredients of one kind or another. Looking up, he noticed there was a note taped to the freezer.

"Huh. Apparently I picked my tenant better than I thought," he said as he closed the door and went to pour water for both of them. "She left everything here for me that wouldn't spoil by the time I got here, because she couldn't take it with her."

"Well, that was nice of her," Shishido said, taking the offered glass as he leaned against the doorframe. "Guess we don't need to order out after all."

"Yeah, except there's just one problem... all of this is raw ingredients, and I don't know how to cook anything but student food," Shouichi sighed as he poked through the cupboards experimentally. "What kind of student _was_ she, anyway? There's not a single cup ramen or box of Kraft Dinner in here!"

Shishido nearly snorted his water, and ended up coughing as well as laughing. "Are you serious? That's all you can cook? How do you survive on your own?"

"By making a lot of instant food and eating out often, obviously," Shouichi replied dryly. "At school I get a meal plan. I feel bad wasting all of this, though. Maybe my mom can use some of it."

"Here, let me see," Shishido demanded, pushing away from the wall and shoving past him. Shouichi got hastily out of his way, because the sudden close proximity made him a little too aware of Shishido's body. He was neither airsick nor panicked anymore, and his body was reminding him that it had been a long time since his last boyfriend. Flushing, he hoped Shishido wouldn't notice, or would at least not be offended if he did notice. At least he probably didn't have to worry about the older man being disgusted, considering the relationship they hadn't quite managed to have in high school.

"Mmm... I can make sukiyaki with this," Shishido declared after a moment. "Or ramen. A lot of this stuff is Chinese, I'm not sure what to do with some of it. But there's some beef in the freezer, looks like."

"Really? I didn't see any noodles," Shouichi blinked and moved to peer over the shorter man's shoulder.

"No, but there's flour and eggs, and everything else I need," Shishido laughed. "Back off, gimme some space to work. Go unpack or something."

"Where did you learn to cook?" Shouichi blurted out, astonished. When he'd known Shishido, the older boy had been just as dependent on his mother and fast food restaurants for his meals as any other teenaged boy. And he'd never shown any interest in cooking.

Then he winced, and was glad he'd used 'where' and not 'when'. The former could be taken as an incredulous question from a fellow bachelor, but the latter would have been suspicious.

Shishido was laughing, apparently not thinking anything of the question. "Survival. Well, that and a former... uh, girlfriend... of mine was a really good cook. Made me learn the basics so I could help."

For a moment Shouichi wondered if Shishido had decided he liked girls after all, then realized what the hesitation had meant. Right, because Shishido was Japanese, and you didn't admit to stuff like that in Japan, no matter what. He really _had_ been spoiled by living in America.

"You're lucky," he said enviously. "None of my boyfriends ever knew how to cook. I mean, some were a little better than I was, but not by much." When Shishido gave him a startled look, he shrugged and smiled gently. "This is America," he reminded the older man. "More specifically, this is California. Nobody here cares."

Flushing, Shishido rubbed the back of his head and looked back at the ingredients he was pulling out. "Am I that obvious?" he asked.

"Uh... call it 'gaydar'," Shouichi said, using the English word. "You're a tennis player, you can cook, and you hesitated over 'girlfriend'. I still took a chance."

"Yeah, well... you're right, it was a boyfriend," Shishido admitted uncomfortably. "Anyway. Clear out. Jog my elbows and the food won't be edible. Making dinner is the least I can do to pay you back for putting me up, so shoo."

Laughing at being chased out of his own kitchen, and aware that Shishido wanted a chance to recover his poise, Shouichi obeyed. He unpacked his bags, putting his clothes away quickly. Some of his stuff was already here; he'd leased the apartment furnished, and this year he'd decided his tenant was trustworthy enough that he didn't need to haul _everything_ all the way to Harvard. So he'd left most of his summer clothes, and a lot of his framed pictures and the like. It meant he could travel with less baggage, which was always a good thing.

By the time he was finished Shishido was putting the final touches on dinner; sukiyaki didn't take long to make. They ate sitting on the floor at the low coffee table; there was a couch against the wall, but Shouichi had deliberately chosen a table he could sit at this way to eat at. The floor was carpet, and that was cushioning enough.

Slowly, over the course of the dinner, Shouichi started to relax. Somewhere over the years Shishido had learned how to make conversation; when Shouichi had known him he'd scorned 'small talk' as a waste of time, and only bothered to talk with people he knew about things that mattered to him. Shouichi had always been good at setting people at their ease and drawing them out, on the other hand. At least, he was when he wasn't tied into knots of sheer nervousness.

So talk between them flowed smoothly, and Shouichi finally did succeed in learning how Shishido's family and most of the former Hyoutei team were doing. He didn't make the mistake of asking again, letting Shishido ramble wherever the conversation took him, instead.

It felt... gods, it was stupid even to _think_ it, he would certainly never _say_ it... but it felt like coming home. Despite the years that lay between them now, the better part of a decade, talking to Shishido didn't seem like talking to a stranger. It was like catching up with his best friend. He had to be extra careful to guard his tongue because of the temptation to be lulled into carelessness, but otherwise it was the best afternoon and evening he'd spent in a long time.

When they were done Shouichi insisted on washing the dishes, leaving Shishido in the small living room. They could talk easily through the kitchen door, and there really wasn't room in there for more than one person.

"Is this your family?" Shishido called in to him. Shouichi took a moment to glance over his shoulder, and saw the older man was looking at the framed photos of his family that stood on a low shelf over the television.

"Yes, my parents and I," he said. The few pictures he had from before his sister had been kidnapped were safely tucked away with certain other things he hadn't been able to bring himself to destroy completely. He'd wanted _some_ tiny piece of his old life to keep close to him, and surely a couple of photos hidden in his dresser couldn't hurt anything?

It belatedly occurred to him that Shishido _might_ recognize his parents, but he thought it unlikely. The older man had only met his mother and father a few times, and that had been a long time ago. They'd aged a great deal all but overnight as well, the strain of his sister's abduction weighing heavily on them.

"So, you're an only child?" Shishido commented. "Must've been lonely. I fought with my big brother constantly, but I wouldn't trade him for the world."

Shouichi had to bite his lip, but when he answered his voice was steady. "Not really. Didn't know what I was missing, really." His sister had been quite a bit older than he was, so it wasn't as if they'd ever been really close. Still, he missed her whenever he was reminded of her.

When he emerged from the kitchen, he found that Shishido had picked up one photo to look at it more closely, and was frowning thoughtfully. Shouichi moved around to look over his shoulder, and his breath caught in his throat. It was a casual picture of him that had been taken just after his high school graduation here in the States... only a little more than a year after the last time Shishido had seen him. His hair was dark, of course, but his face hadn't finished maturing yet. If Shishido was going to recognize him, it would be from that photo.

"Huh." The older man still seemed thoughtful, not angry or confused. "Do you have any family left in Tokyo?"

"Uh..." His standard answer to that question was 'no', because of course 'Shouichi Okada' had no relatives in Japan. Nobody there would ever have heard of him, save a few select officials in the government and police. But this felt very much like navigating through a minefield, and he wanted to leave himself an out. "Some cousins, I think. Why?"

"You remind me of someone I used to know," Shishido said, and thankfully Shouichi was standing behind him so the older man couldn't see his wince. "I've been trying to figure out why it seems like I should recognize you, and I think that's why. Your cousins, their name wouldn't be Ohtori would it?"

Yeah, that was what Shouichi had been afraid of - and also what he'd hoped for, that Shishido would conclude he was _related_ to Ohtori Choutarou, not that he _was_ Ohtori Choutarou.

"I honestly don't know," he replied, grateful that his voice came out steady even though his hands were shaking. "My mother and her sister were estranged before I was born. I've never met them, I don't even know my aunt's married name."

"Damn." Sighing, Shishido set the photo down again and turned to face him. "I was hoping... I sort of lost touch with him, and... ah, never mind." Looking frustrated, he rubbed a hand over his face. "I dunno why I even asked. Even if you knew how to contact him, I doubt he'd want to talk to me."

There was pain behind Shishido's words, an old and never quite mended pain that struck the answering chord in Shouichi's heart. "I doubt that," he said softly, unable to just leave it at that and desperately wishing he could admit the truth. "I can't imagine why he wouldn't. You... seem like the sort of person who would be a good friend."

"Hah!" Shishido laughed at that, and the pain that had been in his voice melted away. "You've only seen me on my best behaviour, Okada. Don't jump to too many conclusions." Despite his words he was grinning, and punched Shouichi in the shoulder in a friendly gesture. "Anyway. I don't know about you, but... well, I know it's stupidly early, but I've been up since an indecent hour this morning and my body is telling me it's almost midnight."

"Mine, too, and you have to get up early tomorrow," Shouichi agreed immediately, feeling bad for not realizing it had gotten so late. "Would you like to take a shower? I don't have a bath, but there's lots of hot water."

"Mmm..." Shishido looked torn. "I would, but these are my only clean clothes and they're not all that clean. The thought of getting back into them when I'm clean isn't appealing. I, uh... don't really wear sleep clothes, so I figured I'd just crash in what I'm wearing. I'd planned to wear it all the way back to Tokyo, anyway."

That seemed a shame. Shouichi might have become Americanized in many ways, but one of the things he hadn't lost from his Japanese heritage was a desire to be clean at all times. He knew how good a hot shower felt after a long flight, and by the time Shishido got back to Tokyo he'd probably be dying for a bath.

"You know, I've probably got some old sweats you could wear to sleep in," he offered. "I was going to do my laundry tomorrow morning, but there's nothing stopping me from doing it now. I could throw your clothes in with mine, and they'd be clean and dry by morning."

"You serious?" Shishido's expression lightened considerably. "You are my new best friend, you know that? First you put me up, now this..."

Shouichi had to swallow around the lump that suddenly formed in his throat, but once again he managed to make his voice steady. "Hey, you cooked dinner," he pointed out. "It's not like you're freeloading."

"If we keep this up, it's gonna feel like we're married or something," Shishido chuckled, making Shouichi smile wistfully.

"Just let me brush my teeth and get ready for bed while you dig out your bath stuff, then I'll run the laundry down the hall while you're in the shower," he told the older man. Now it was his turn to want a minute or two to recover his poise. If things had gone differently, he and Shishido might very well have been living together now, as comfortable in that sort of partnership as they had been in all other kinds.

Fleeing the thought as much as the conversation, he turned and headed into the bathroom. He hurried through getting ready, not wanting to keep Shishido awake longer than he had to. If he started the laundry, he could come back and get the futon laid out probably before Shishido got out of the shower. Then he could go put the clothes in the dryer, and pull them out in the morning before Shishido left.

"I'll set my alarm and wake you up, that way you can be sure you won't miss your plane," he called through the closed door.

"Thanks!" Shishido replied. "Where are those sweats? Might as well grab them and take them in with me, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. In my dresser, top drawer," he answered. "On the left!" he added, raising his voice slightly in case Shishido had already moved away.

Two minutes later he was done. He made sure there were fresh towels on the rack in the bathroom, then headed for his bedroom. Shishido wasn't in the living room, so he must have changed in the bedroom. "I put towels out," he said, tapping briefly on the half-closed door and poking his head in. He didn't even think about it; locker room conventions were strongly ingrained in him, and anyway he and Shishido had never been shy about changing in front of each other.

He froze when he saw his former partner holding a picture. This one wasn't framed; without even looking at it, Shouichi knew instantly which one it was. Shishido had found his stash of the few mementos he had of his past life, and there was only one picture that would have put that particular combination of shock, anger, and pain onto the older man's face. The shot that had been taken of the two of them when they'd won the final round of the district tournament, beating out every other doubles pair they'd played and helping to send Hyoutei on to the Regionals.

Shishido looked up and met his eyes, but didn't say anything. For a long moment the silence stretched between them, growing more and more painful as Shouichi's heart pounded in his chest. Finally, unable to stand it any longer, he said the first thing that came into his head. "Wrong drawer," he whispered, his voice cracking.

"Yeah, I kind of figured that out," Shishido replied, sounding dazed. Anger was rapidly winning out in the mix of expressions on his face, however, and he was glaring. "Choutarou, what the _fuck_? What the hell kind of game are you playing at?"

"Shishido-san..." The honourific slipped out without him meaning to use it, and he winced when that made Shishido's glare intensify. If there had been even the slimmest doubt in the other man's mind, Shouichi had just destroyed it. "I... I can explain," Shouichi said weakly.

"Oh yeah?" Shishido arched an eyebrow, his expression plainly stating that he was waiting and that he expected the story to be damn good. It would certainly have to be, to explain what Shouichi had done to his partner so long ago.

Problem was, the only story that made any sense was the truth, and that was the one thing Shouichi couldn't tell him. Enough damage had already been done by the fact that Shishido had recognized him. Damn it, he'd _known_ he was going to regret this!

"I..." Floundering, he searched for any feasible excuse, and couldn't come up with anything. Eventually he hung his head in defeat. "I take it back. I can't explain."

"Damn fucking right you can't," Shishido growled, and Shouichi winced again. "Choutarou..."

"Don't call me that," Shouichi said, more sharply than he'd meant to. He couldn't have expressed just how much it hurt to hear his old name again, especially in _that_ tone from the person who'd meant the most to him in all the world. "Please, don't call me that," he added more softly. "My name is Shouichi."

" _Why_?" Shishido burst out, disbelieving. "For fuck's sakes, _why_? All you had to do was tell me you'd changed your mind, you didn't have to run away! To _America_? And changing your name? Gods, Choutarou!"

"What?" Startled, Shouichi jerked his head up and met Shishido's eyes again. There was pain there under the anger, and another kind of anger that was directed inward. "What do you... you didn't... oh, gods." Horrified, Shouichi finally realized what it must have seemed like to Shishido. "You haven't spent this whole time thinking I left because of _you_ , did you?"

"What the hell else was I supposed to think?" Shishido demanded, slamming the photo down onto the dresser. "The day after I confess to you that I'd been in love with you for years, you vanish. Just _vanish_ , gone without a trace or so much as a phone call to say goodbye! Not even a damn note! I figured either you'd changed your mind..."

"Are you crazy?" Shouichi blurted out, unable to keep from interrupting him. "How could you think that? I don't think I could've been any more obvious about the fact that I wanted you just as bad unless I'd climbed into your pants!" His cheeks burned as he said the words, but it was the truth. They'd both been a little shameless after admitting their feelings for each other.

Shishido looked away, breaking their inadvertent staring contest and losing a great deal of his anger. What was left was the pain, clearer than ever and making Shouichi's heart ache to see it. "I thought maybe you'd decided it wasn't worth the risk after all," he said miserably. "That you'd gotten scared when you'd actually started thinking about it. Or... hell, I don't know. Sometimes I thought maybe your parents had found out somehow and dragged you off to get you away from my evil influence, or something, but I _know_ you! You'd have found a way to call me, write me, _something_ to let me know!" He looked up again, jaw clenched but only grief and pain in his eyes. "At least, I thought I knew you."

"No," Shouichi whispered, unable to get more than that simple denial out at first. He shook his head helplessly, trying to find a way to explain without actually explaining. "Gods, no. Shishido-san, it had _nothing_ to do with you. Nothing. Never. That night with you, before I went home, was the last truly happy moment of my life."

"Then what the hell?" Shishido demanded, the anger returning all in a flash. This time Shouichi knew it was being used to cover that deep pain, but that made it hurt more rather than less. "Your parents just decided to move out of the blue, and you couldn't call me to _tell_ me so? Do you have any idea how fucking _worried_ I was? Before I decided it was all because of me, anyway."

"Yes, they did, and no, I couldn't," Shouichi replied, and his words seemed to startle Shishido badly enough that the older man couldn't think of anything to say. Sighing, Shouichi decided that damage control at this point was beyond hopeless. He trusted Shishido, more than anyone else, even after so many years apart. His parents would kill him themselves if they ever found out he'd told someone the truth, but then again the worst damage was already done. Shishido knew who he was, and Shouichi knew his former partner well enough to know he wouldn't drop the subject until he was satisfied.

"Look... I'd rather not have this conversation as a shouting match in my bedroom," he said. "Come out in the living room and sit down, and I promise I'll tell you everything."

Somewhat mollified, though obviously in no way appeased, Shishido finally lifted his hand from the picture and stalked out of the room. Shouichi stepped aside to let him pass, then moved forward to look at the picture. As he'd thought, it was that shot of them from their last game together; ecstatic at their victory, hugging and slapping each other on the back and laughing with the sheer joy of the game.

Tracing his fingers over their smiling faces, Shouichi sighed. Had _either_ of them ever been happy since the last time they'd been together? He was starting to think not. He'd always wondered what Shishido had thought of his sudden disappearance, and he'd known his best friend would be confused and hurt, but it had never occurred to him that Shishido would blame himself.

Opening the drawer, he put the picture back where it belonged, on top of the picture of his sister playing in concert and the family portrait taken of the four of them a few months before she'd been abducted. There was a dirty, worn tennis ball tucked back into a corner - one of the balls he'd used when nailing his scud serve through that broken down wall when Shishido had helped him perfect it. Beside it was a small block of the rosin used on violin bowstrings. And that was it, everything he had left of his life as Ohtori Choutarou.

He made his way back out into the living room to find Shishido standing against one wall like he wasn't sure what to do with himself, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. The look on his face was distinctly unfriendly, and Shouichi closed his eyes briefly.

"Sit down," he asked softly. "Please," he added when Shishido only glared at him. He sank down beside the table first, and decided not to ask again. If it would make Shishido feel better to glare down at him from the advantage of height, then he probably owed at least that much to his former partner.

Shishido did sit, though, dropping down unceremoniously to sit cross-legged on the other side of the table. His voice was slightly less hostile than it had been; maybe some of Shouichi's misery and desperation was showing in his eyes, and the older boy was taking pity on him. "So? I'm still not sure what possible explanation you could have for all this."

Taking a deep breath, Shouichi tightened his hands into fists in his lap and looked into Shishido's eyes. "When I was an infant, my father was a detective in Kyoto. He was involved in a case that ended up with a major yakuza boss behind bars. Threats were made against everyone who'd been involved in the case, and the Japanese government quietly relocated the key people. Including my father."

Shishido was silent; he looked startled, but at least he was thinking about it rather than arguing. Taking that as a good sign, Shouichi continued. "I didn't know any of this, of course. My family never spoke of it. I still don't even know what name was on my original birth certificate, just that it wasn't Ohtori Choutarou." He shrugged. "It doesn't really matter, I guess. I'm Shouichi Okada now, and I have been since the last time you saw me. It's probably - hopefully - the last name I'll have. If they find us _here_ , I don't think changing my name and moving again is going to help."

Eyes wide, Shishido stared at him. "They... found you?" he ventured a guess based on what Shouichi had said thus far. "You know this sounds completely crazy, right? Like something out of a really lame novel."

"I know, but it's the truth," Shouichi replied bitterly. "Do you think I'd have left behind everything that mattered to me by _choice_? They kidnapped my sister, Shishido. They took her right out of her apartment, and left it a bloody mess. When I got home from your place that night, everything was chaos. Two hours later I was on a plane with my parents, heading for America. They'd agreed to shelter us because the yakuza family involved had caused them a lot of trouble too, and they were grateful for the bust."

"Your sister?" Now Shishido looked shocked instead of startled, and dismayed. "Gods! Is she okay? But... you said you were an only child..."

"I am, now," Shouichi confirmed, his voice raw with grief. "They never found any trace of her. She's probably dead, but I doubt we'll ever know for sure. In some ways, that's worse - imagining that she might be out there somewhere, scared and hurt, being tortured because they can't reach my father."

"I... gods. Chouta... Shouichi," Shishido corrected himself hastily, and that more than anything else he could have said eased some of the lump of agony in Shouichi's chest. Shishido believed him. "Shouichi, I'm sorry. I... I didn't know..."

"How could you have? _I_ didn't even know, until it happened. And how could you have guessed why I'd disappeared like that?" Shouichi shrugged painfully. "I pleaded and argued with my parents, begging them to let me at least send you a letter from somewhere, or _something_. But they were right to say no. If they were following us closely enough to take my sister like that, then they must have known that you were my best friend. They'd have been watching you like a hawk, waiting for some sign that I'd contacted you. And almost anything can be traced with the sort of resources they have."

"Watching _me_? Gods, that's creepy," Shishido shivered, looking haunted. "But... today, why didn't you..."

"How could I?" Shouichi shook his head. "You have no idea what I felt when I saw you sitting there. I was terrified you would recognize me. I never should have invited you back here, but... well, it was _so good_ to see you and talk to you again, even if I couldn't tell you who I was." He lowered his eyes. "You can't imagine how many times I wanted to say something, to tell you the truth, to take the chance to finally say goodbye. But it's not just my life I'm risking by telling you all this, it's my parents' as well."

"You don't trust me?" Shishido snapped, obviously stung. "What, you think I'm gonna go back and turn you in?"

"No, of course not!" Shouichi exclaimed. "But it wouldn't take that much. If you slipped up and mentioned to Atobe that you'd seen me... and then he might tell someone else, not realizing the significance... just one little thing is all it would take. One little, seemingly harmless concession my parents made to my sister all those years ago is what caused them to eventually track her down, and us through her. These people are deadly, they've got nothing but time, and they _never_ give up."

"I guess." Sighing, Shishido ran his fingers through his long hair, which he'd let down from the ponytail at some point when Shouichi had been in the bathroom. "I'll be careful, I promise. I wouldn't risk your life, Ch-Shouichi. Damn it, that's going to take some getting used to."

"I don't see why," Shouichi objected, frowning. "You certainly can't refer to me as Shouichi if you're talking about me as Choutarou."

"Yeah, but... hey, you're not planning to cut me off again, are you?" Shishido scowled at him. "What, were you thinking I'd walk out of here and that would be the last time we'd ever see each other?"

"Well, yes," Shouichi admitted, confused. "I just explained to you why I _can't_ stay in contact with you, Shishido-san! I don't know that they're still watching you after all this time, they might not be... but I don't know that they aren't."

"So? I haven't heard from Ohtori Choutarou since we were in high school, and never will again," Shishido waved that off. "Why can't Okada Shouichi, the poor airsick bastard I got friendly with on the plane, stay in contact with me? I _have_ occasionally made friends in other countries, you know."

"I..." Startled, Shouichi thought that over. Was there any valid reason why he couldn't, _as Shouichi_ , be Shishido's friend now that they'd met through a random coincidence? Surely the yakuza weren't hunting down every friend Shishido ever made, anywhere in the world?

"Is it any bigger a risk than the fact that you're going to law school?" Shishido asked. "I mean, your dad was a lawyer. Wouldn't they look for that sort of thing?"

"I guess so," Shouichi admitted, and slowly a knot that had been in his chest for so long it felt like it was a part of him started to loosen. "You'd want to? After everything? You'd still want to be my friend?"

"Idiot," Shishido said scornfully. "I'm stubborn, not _stupid_. I was pissed off at you because you left without telling me for no good reason. Except you _had_ a reason, a damn good one. I'm not going to hold it against you!" He smiled wryly. "What kind of totally uncool friend would that make me, huh?"

Choking on a laugh to hear his former partner using his once-favourite slang phrase, Shouichi sniffled. He didn't realize until he did it that he was crying, and he quickly wiped at his face in embarrassment. "Ah, gods, I've gone soft living here," he muttered into his hands. "These people are so casual about showing every little thing they feel."

"Ch... Shou.... no, damn it, _this_ I need to say to Choutarou," Shishido tripped over himself with a scowl. "You were my best friend. More than that, you were my partner. What hurt wasn't that you left, wasn't even that it seemed like it was my fault... it was that you'd broken the trust we had between us, or so I thought. You think I wouldn't jump at the chance to have you back? I've never had another friend like you, before or since." He grimaced. "Never let anybody close enough, after you were gone. Didn't want to risk getting hurt like that again."

"I've missed you," Shouichi choked out. "Every day at first, for years. Now I can go for months without thinking of you, sometimes... but it never stopped hurting when I _did_ think of you."

"Yeah, well... me too," Shishido conceded, looking away. He'd never been good at handling emotional confessions, Shouichi certainly remembered that well enough. This felt even more awkward than the conversation they'd had the last time they'd seen each other, when they'd admitted their feelings for each other. "So are you going to stop being stupid, and let me be your friend again?"

Unable to speak for fear of breaking down entirely, Shouichi nodded. Slowly Shishido reached over the table, offering his hand, and after a brief hesitation Shouichi clasped it in his. Not a handshake, but hands locked over each other's wrists, the way they used to do when vowing to win the game, not to let anything ever stand in their way.

"Maybe more than a friend again?" Shishido continued after a moment, his voice dropping and going husky. A little thrill of heat shot through Shouichi as he realized what Shishido was offering. "I saw the way you were checking me out, once you admitted you liked guys. Why do you think I kept crowding you like that? I liked watching you blush over it. You're damn hot, Shouichi... maybe even hotter than the only guy I ever loved."

The air caught in Shouichi's throat at that, and his hand tightened around Shishido's wrist. "Do you _have_ to leave in the morning?" he asked, almost pleaded. "You said your next tournament wasn't for a month..."

"I need to get _some_ practice in with my coach before the tournament, or he'll disown me," Shishido replied, his blue eyes going dark with a heat that Shouichi still remembered from that last, fateful night. "But no, I don't have to be back tomorrow." His lips curved in a smile, and this time there was nothing wry about it. "You asking me to stay, Shouichi?"

There were a dozen things Shouichi could have said to that, teasing and serious alike. But only one answer felt like the right one. "Yes," he agreed simply, and tugged on the older man's wrist to pull him closer. Leaning over the table he met Shishido's mouth with his, and did his best to prove that he knew more about kissing than he had in high school.

When he pulled back again he was dizzy and breathless, and smiling even though there were still tears on his cheeks. "You can stay as long as you want," he added to his earlier statement. "As a friend, lover, whatever, I don't care. Just as long as you're here with me. Gods, Shishido..."

"Will you just give it up and call me Ryou?" Shishido demanded, laughing at him. "If I have to learn to call you something new, you can too. Ryou and Shouichi, not Shishido-san and Choutarou. Fair?"

"Fair," Shouichi agreed. He'd called Shishido by his name before, but only briefly. Only for the span of those few hours between when they'd confessed to each other, and the moment he'd left to go home. "Then stay with me, Ryou." He managed a watery grin and a teasing tone. "I'll show you all around L.A., and I'm sure we can find _something_ to do in our spare time..."

"Asshole," Shishido accused him. "When did you turn into such a tease, huh?"

That sobered Shouichi slightly. "We don't really know each other any more, you know," he pointed out sadly. "It's been more than six years. That's a long time, especially with everything we've been through."

"Oh, bullshit," Shishido declared bluntly, startling him. "We've got details to learn, but... hell, Shouichi. I was drawn to you the moment I met you on the plane, though damned if I could figure out why. It made me nervous, because the last time I felt that way about anyone it was... well, you, when you were Choutarou. Don't you feel it?" He searched Shouichi's eyes, his voice dropping. "Or am I just crazy, and I was imagining it right from the beginning?"

"No, I... I know what you mean," Shouichi agreed hoarsely. "It's the same thing that made us such good doubles players. And such close friends, so quickly. I didn't like you much when I first met you... but I never could ignore you or turn away from you."

"Heh, thanks," Shishido rolled his eyes. "I think. The rest is just surface crap. The potential is still there for us to be partners, like we once were. That's all that matters. And I know I sound like one of the idiots from Oshitari's romance novels, shut up," he added, flushing.

Shouichi couldn't help but laugh. "I wasn't going to say that. I was going to agree with you."

"The hell you were," Shishido retorted. Then he grinned again. "And you're right, I'm sure we can find something to do with our spare time. We can't spend _all_ our time in here. And I _do_ want to talk to you, get close to you again." His eyes lit up. "Maybe we can find a street court and go play. I know it won't be the same, but..."

"No!" Abruptly Shouichi jerked back, and only the fact that Shishido clamped down on his wrist kept him from breaking the contact entirely. "Gods, Shishido, you still don't get it, do you?" He shook his head in frustration. "I haven't touched a racquet since the last practice you and I had together. I haven't so much as looked at a sheet of music; I get nervous just listening to classical music on CD, I don't dare actually go to a concert. I had to give up _everything_. Not just you. Anything and everything that might identify me."

"What? But... but..." Shishido floundered, gaping. "But tonnes of people play tennis and music for fun! Music and tennis were your life!"

"Exactly," Shouichi agreed bitterly. "They were my life. So I couldn't have them any more, because they might lead someone back to me. Do you know how they found my sister? She'd been taking piano lessons for about a year when my parents moved and changed their names the first time. She begged and pleaded with them to let her continue, and they finally decided there couldn't be any harm in it, because lots of girls took piano lessons. She turned out to be something of a prodigy, I don't know if I ever told you that. As far as anyone has been able to determine, that's the connection that led them to her. That's why it took them so long."

"That's insane," Shishido said flatly. "That's completely insane. I... I can't even imagine... I'd _kill_ anyone who tried to take tennis from me. I'd _rather_ die."

"That's what I said, at the time," Shouichi replied softly, his voice full of grief for the things he'd lost. "But apparently I didn't quite mean it literally. I lived. I moved on with my life. Eventually I even found other things I enjoyed, but never anything that meant as much to me as tennis and music had. I've never let myself so much as go near a court or a music store, for fear the temptation would be too much. And once I'd justified it once, it would be that much easier to do the next time. You understand?"

"Gods." Shishido closed his eyes, and squeezed Shouichi's hand. When he opened them again, though, his expression was full of determination. "You can't keep this up. You'll go insane. I _know_ you, Ch... Shouichi. I don't know how you've lasted this long, frankly."

"There's nothing..."

"The hell there isn't!" Shishido snapped. "That's what they told me when I said I was going to get back on the Regulars, too, remember? 'You can't do it, it's impossible'. Did I give up and believe them? Hell no! I found a way. _You_ were that way. Remember?"

"I remember," Shouichi agreed. "How could I forget? But I don't see..."

"How did you ever make it onto the Regulars in your second year with an attitude like that?" Shishido demanded, cutting him off again. "You didn't, that's how. The Ohtori Choutarou I knew was damn near as stubborn as I was, that's why we made such good partners. Did you lose your backbone when you changed your name?"

Hurt, Shouichi tugged at his hand, but Shishido refused to let him go. "You don't understand," he protested. "That was different. This is my life we're talking about!"

"Yeah, it is," Shishido nodded. "A life you've spent being miserable over the things that were taken away from you. We found a way to get me back in your life. Did you ever even _try_ to find away around the restrictions?"

"Like what?" Shouichi demanded.

"Like... playing in private?" Shishido said, rolling his eyes. "Soundproof a room, play violin in there. Pretend like I'm teaching you tennis, because gods know I've dragged every other boyfriend I've ever had out onto the courts, and we'll book indoor courts and play where nobody can see us. Yeah, you can't do either of them professionally, or even in public, but there's no reason you have to shove the things you love out of your life completely!"

Trembling, Shouichi considered it. Could he? Dared he? It was still a risk, however slight...

So was walking out the door in the morning. So was becoming a lawyer. So was being with Shishido... and Shouichi didn't think he could give _that_ up, not now that he'd agreed to let himself have it.

"You're terrified of flying, yet you take a plane home every holiday so you can see your parents," Shishido persisted, his voice dropping to something less harsh. "Where's that courage the rest of the time, huh? Where's the strength of will that made you one of the best players in Tokyo, that made you strong enough to be _my_ partner and keep me from running roughshod over you? Because I'll tell you right now, this isn't going to work without it. None of it."

"I can't..." Swallowing, Shouichi chopped off the rest of that sentence - that excuse - and made himself admit the truth. "I'm scared. I'm terrified."

"So be smart and don't take stupid risks," Shishido told him. "But don't define 'stupid' as 'any tiny possibility'. I'm scared, too," he admitted. "Scared that I'll lead them to you, scared that they'll take _me_ to get at you. Hell, scared that things won't work out, that it's been too long and we've changed too much. I was terrified I wouldn't get back on the team, too. Never let it stop me."

"You were? Really?" Shouichi was surprised by that. "You never showed it, not at all. I thought you were suicidal and insane, but never scared."

"Well, I was," Shishido shrugged awkwardly. "If Atobe hadn't spoken up, if you'd refused to offer your spot on the team - I just about _died_ when he asked you that, I was sure that was the end of it - half a dozen things could've gone just a tiny bit different, and I wouldn't be here now. But they didn't, and I am, and if I hadn't tried then I'd still be just 'that loser Tachibana crushed'. Are you gonna let them make a loser of you?"

"No." Gods, maybe Shishido was right. He'd spent more than six years essentially cowering in fear in a corner, hoping he could protect himself by refusing to actually live his life. Yes, he had to be careful. No, he couldn't live the life he'd once had planned for himself, as a concert violinist or a professional tennis player. But maybe, just maybe, he didn't have to lose _everything_.

They couldn't watch everyone in the world, right? As long as he didn't draw public attention to himself...

"No, I won't let them," he repeated, his voice stronger this time. He looked up into Shishido's eyes, and felt a spark of the sheer determination that had gotten him a spot on the Regulars as a junior. Shishido must have seen it in his expression, because he suddenly grinned fiercely, the same grin he used to give when he was sure they had a game in the bag.

"We'll beat them," the older man promised. "Together, we can beat anyone and anything, remember? Nothing can stop us... as long as we don't give up."

"I won't," Shouichi swore. "I won't, Ryou. If you'll help me."

"All you had to do was ask, stupid," Shishido chided him. "So quit mooning over it, already. Tomorrow, we'll find an indoor court and I'll start teaching you how to swing a racquet." He grinned and ducked the mock-punch Shouichi threw at him. "And then you can show me the city. Before that, though..." His eyes went dark again, the way they had earlier. "I guess we've got some time to pass."

Shouichi couldn't help himself. "I've got a mahjong set," he offered innocently, and laughed when Shishido swore at him creatively. "Well, all right, I didn't know you disliked the game that much," he snickered. "Chess? Or maybe shougi? I think I might have a go-ban around here somewhere..."

Tugging at the hand he still held, Shishido tried to pull him back over the table where the older man could kiss him again. Instead Shouichi braced himself, and pulled back. He was still taller and heavier than his old partner by a good bit, and he had better leverage because he was kneeling. Shishido ended up sprawled half over the table with his free hand on the floor on Shouichi's side to stabilize himself, and Shouichi promptly took advantage of him.

That kiss was unlike any they'd ever shared before. The kiss earlier had been more of a symbol than an actual statement of intent. And as teenagers they'd been hesitant and uncertain, struggling to find their way through something that was equal parts instinctive and bewildering. This time, though, they were both coming into it with plenty of experience and knowing exactly what they wanted. And that made all the difference in the world.

Shishido tried to take control, but Shouichi wouldn't let him. One important change their time apart had wrought; back then Shishido had been - well, not dominant, because they'd definitely had a partnership of equals. But Shishido had been the more aggressive of the two of them, and Shouichi had adored him enough to let him do pretty much whatever he wanted.

So he caught the older man completely by surprise when he dominated the kiss, but Shishido didn't seem to be complaining. Not at all, judging by the startled, needy little sound he made in the back of his throat.

"Okay, we are not doing this on the coffee table," Shouichi declared when he finally drew back for air, leaving both of them panting. He had to smile at the dazed look in Shishido's eyes.

"Yeah, but..." Shishido's eyes trailed towards the bedroom. "The bed is all the way over there." He sounded plaintive.

Shouichi understood. He didn't want to let go, not even for an instant, lest this turn out to be a dream after all. "I never said anything about the bed, just that we're not doing it on the table," he asserted. "It'll break, it's not meant for that kind of abuse. So get _over_ here already," he added impatiently when Shishido just stared at him.

"You know, I don't remember you being this bossy," the older man mused, pushing himself back off the table just long enough to move around to the same side Shouichi was on. It was a task made more difficult by the fact that they still hadn't released each other's hands, but neither of them suggested it.

"That's because I usually let you think you were getting your way, and then convinced you that 'your way' had been what I'd been suggesting all along," Shouichi told him, lips twitching. It wasn't true, mostly he'd just gone along with whatever Shishido suggested, though he'd certainly never hesitated to speak up if he disagreed outright. But he knew that now Shishido was going to drive himself nuts trying to figure out if Shouichi was telling the truth.

"You're evil," the older man finally declared. "Totally, completely evil. Keep it up, you're obviously learning from me."

"You wish!" Shouichi retorted, but he was laughing again. When was the last time he'd laughed so much in such a short period of time? Years? Maybe even since the last time they'd been together?

Shishido tried to tackle him, but Shouichi rolled with it and ended up on top. He'd been taking judo, not because of any delusion that it might protect him from the people who were after his father, but because he'd had to find _some_ way of keeping in shape once tennis had been denied to him. The move obviously surprised Shishido once again, because he didn't struggle. Or maybe he'd just decided that it wasn't so bad after all.

Shouichi certainly did his best to make it an appealing position to be in. He kissed Shishido again, fiercely but briefly, before running his mouth down over the other man's strong neck. The slippery strands of Shishido's hair slid off his shoulder, tickling Shouichi's cheek as they fell. He wanted to bury his hands in it, but they were in the wrong position for that. Later. There would _be_ a later, he didn't have to do everything now.

It was as if he'd spent the last six years wrapped in heavy cotton, able to see and interact with the world but not really able to touch it in any concrete way. Now that he'd given himself permission to have the things he'd so desperately wanted, including the person he'd needed most of all, it felt like that wrapping had suddenly been torn away. Everything was bright and intense and _new_ , and he had to savour every moment of it.

Even if it drove Shishido crazy, which it apparently was doing. The older man was writhing under him, not trying to get away but rather in reaction to what Shouichi was doing to his neck. "Tease," Shishido accused him again.

"I'm enjoying myself," Shouichi replied, pulling back a bit. "Are you saying you're not?"

"Gods, no, I didn't say that," Shishido moaned. "And I didn't say stop, either!" he complained when Shouichi didn't return to what he'd been doing.

"Huh. I don't remember you being this demanding, either," Shouichi mused as he sat up enough to give himself room to work the buttons of Shishido's shirt. "Oh, wait. Yes, I do." He was glad the other man was wearing a button-up top, since it meant they didn't have to release their hands in order to get at skin. At Shishido's skin, anyway, since Shouichi was wearing a pullover.

Growling, Shishido apparently decided that retaliation was a better strategy than negotiation, and worked his hand up under Shouichi's shirt. The younger man shivered at the feel of the rough callus on Shishido's fingers against his skin, then gasped when Shishido suddenly raked his nails down over Shouichi's back. Shishido grinned and did it again, obviously pleased to have found something that made him react so strongly.

Taking advantage of the bare skin revealed now that the shirt was open, Shouichi moved further down and teased one of Shishido's nipples with his lips and teeth. The older man groaned again and arched up into the touch, not incidentally pressing his groin against Shouichi's hip. He was hard, that was easy to tell even through the heavy jeans he was wearing. Biting down a little harder, Shouichi ground himself into Shishido's thigh in turn, revealing that he was no less hard than the older man.

As teenagers they'd been inexperienced and a little nervous, and it probably would have taken them weeks to work up the courage to go the whole way. Tonight, there was not a doubt in Shouichi's mind that they would be joined in the most intimate way possible the moment they were both out of their clothes. Part of him wanted to draw it out and savour it, but the rest of him was too busy luxuriating in something he'd never thought he would have.

"There's just one problem with staying out here," he murmured against the skin of Shishido's chest. When Shishido made an inquiring noise - that being as coherent an answer as he seemed to be capable of at the moment - Shouichi sighed. "I have lube, but I already unpacked it and put it in my bedside table," he explained. "So unless you have something, one of us is going to have to go get it."

"Mmph... left side pocket of my duffle," Shishido gathered himself enough to say. "Still too damn far away, but a hell of a lot closer than your bedroom."

Glancing over the few feet between them and the spot where Shishido had dumped his bags, Shouichi groaned. "I'll get it," he volunteered, since Shishido couldn't go anywhere while Shouichi was pinning him like that. "Don't move."

He took the opportunity to pull his shirt over his head as he went to the bags, leaving it carelessly on the floor where he dropped it. He could worry about picking up after himself later. The lube was easy enough to find, and there was a strip of condoms along with it. Shouichi flushed, embarrassed he'd forgotten to even think about that and grateful that Shishido was apparently careful. As much as he hated the idea of anything being between them now that they were together at last, he took one of the condoms as well.

Turning, he found that Shishido had disobeyed his instruction not to move, having sat up to discard his shirt and start working on his pants. "Gods, you're beautiful," Shouichi said softly, just absorbing the sight of him. Shishido looked much as he remembered, his skin tanned from hours playing under the sun and muscles sliding smoothly underneath. He looked like what he was, a professional athlete, and the sight was even more breathtaking than Shouichi had found it in high school.

It made him a little embarrassed, knowing that he'd lost a lot of the strength and definition he'd once had. Judo helped keep him in shape, but a few hours in a dojo several times a week wasn't the same as hours spent on the courts every day. His skin was pale after a winter spent in Boston, instead of the tan he too had once sported.

Yet the expression in Shishido's eyes as he looked Shouichi over was anything but disappointed. "So're you," the tennis pro asserted, reaching towards him and gesturing impatiently when Shouichi remained just out of reach. "So get over here, already."

Belatedly Shouichi rejoined him, and Shishido kissed him again fiercely. Setting the bottle and condom aside, Shouichi resumed exploring Shishido's body, his hands running over the older man's chest and finding every spot that made Shishido gasp and squirm.

Shishido's hands briefly did the same, then dropped to Shouichi's pants and started fumbling with the fastenings. "You're wearing too much," Shishido scolded him breathlessly as he broke the kiss. "And so'm I. Gods, Ch-Shouichi. I want you so bad. Don't think I ever stopped wanting you, no matter how mad at you I got."

"Me neither," Shouichi admitted, leaving off teasing the older man for a moment while he helped to shed them both of their remaining clothes. As soon as he had access he wrapped his hand around Shishido's cock, making the older man moan and jerk his hips up into the contact. Somehow they got their pants the rest of the way off, and then they were pressed together completely naked for the first time.

It was everything Shouichi had known it would be, and more. Fire raced through him from every inch of skin that was touching Shishido's, and it only got worse when the older man retaliated by stroking his hand over Shouichi's cock. It felt so good it made him shudder, and he moaned.

"If we don't hurry, we're not gonna get much farther than this," Shishido growled, echoing the thoughts in Shouichi's head. "Been too long. I'd forgotten how good it feels with someone else."

"It's better with you," Shouichi asserted, kissing him again before releasing Shishido to reach for the lube. He wasn't sure if the words were true or if it only felt that way because he'd wanted Shishido for so long, but he certainly couldn't remember anything with his previous boyfriends ever being quite this intense.

He hesitated briefly, then remembered the hungry noise Shishido had made when Shouichi had taken control of the kiss and the way the older man hadn't objected to being pinned. Pouring a puddle of the lube into his hand, he dipped his fingers into it and trailed them down over Shishido's cock and balls, teasing him. Shishido made a startled sound but didn't object.

Far from it, he squirmed and spread his legs a little wider in obvious invitation. Glad he hadn't read his former partner wrong, Shouichi dropped his hand the rest of the way and carefully worked two fingers into the older man's body.

"Fuck, Ch... fuck," Shishido cut himself off before he could say the forbidden name, one hand clenched in the pile of the carpet and the other still teasing Shouichi's cock.

"Have you done it this way before?" Shouichi asked curiously, as Shishido visibly forced himself to relax and take the intrusion. It seemed like he knew how to make it easy on himself, but he was so tight.

"Sometimes," Shishido nodded, closing his eyes and throwing his head back as Shouichi scissored his fingers to stretch him. "Had one boyfriend wouldn't do it any other way, but that was a while ago... nnh!" His voice broke as Shouichi found his prostate and pressed against it hard.

"Mmm, I like that reaction," Shouichi murmured, and did it again just to watch Shishido squirm.

"Did I mention that you've turned into a damn tease?" the older man gasped, shuddering. "Will you just fuck me already?" Seeming to remember the grip he still had on Shouichi's cock, he squeezed it once and flicked his thumb over the tip, making Shouichi gasp in turn.

"Since you ask so nicely," Shouichi agreed, his voice shaking with just how much he wanted to do what Shishido was asking. He withdrew his hand, Shishido stifling a needy sound of protest, and reached for the condom.

Somehow between the two of them they managed to get it on him without tearing it, and then Shouichi was kneeling over Shishido's prone body once more, his cock pressed against Shishido's entrance but not yet pushing inside.

"If you ask me if I'm sure or ready or any of that sappy shit, I _will_ hit you," Shishido growled a threat as Shouichi opened his mouth to do just that. "I'm not a damn girl, I won't break, and I've wanted this since we were fourteen. Do it!"

Not in the least reluctant, Shouichi groaned and gave in, pushing forward. Shishido grunted and did his best not to fight the intrusion, but he was tight enough around Shouichi's cock to make him ache with how good it felt. "Gods, Ryou," he whispered, his voice broken as his thoughts scattered to the four winds. " _Gods_ , you feel so good."

Panting and clutching at Shouichi's shoulders to steady himself, Shishido nodded. "You... you too," he agreed, his voice only slightly more steady than Shouichi's. "Stop... teasing!" Before Shouichi realized what he intended, the older man gripped him tighter and arched his lower body up, forcing Shouichi the rest of the way inside him.

Shouichi _had_ to stop for a moment to adjust or he'd have been in danger of coming right then and there. His gaze was a little unfocused as he stared down at Shishido, but even so he'd never seen anything as beautiful as his partner below him, dark hair spread out like a halo and an expression of exquisite pain and pleasure on his face.

The moment he'd caught his breath he withdrew again, then thrust home fast and hard. That set the pace, leaving both of them gasping and clutching at each other hard enough to bruise. Shouichi couldn't have stopped or slowed down if his life depended on it, too caught up in the incredible sensations and breathless with the knowledge of who exactly he was fucking. Shishido hadn't been his only love, but he'd been the first and certainly the most intense. And, it seemed, the most lasting.

"Oh, gods," Shishido said, his voice tight with the strain of holding onto his control. "Fuck, Shouichi... I... I'm not gonna last much longer..."

"Do it," Shouichi whispered into his ear, nipping at the shell just to hear Shishido groan again. "Do it, I want to feel you writhing beneath me." For good measure he shifted his weight to brace himself on one arm and reached between them with his other hand, wrapping his fingers around Shishido's cock and stroking in time with his thrusts.

That was all it took, and with a wordless shout Shishido came hard. His back arched with the force of it, pressing Shouichi deep inside him as his body shuddered beneath him. Shouichi moaned and rocked his hips into that tight heat, losing his rhythm in favour of keeping Shishido around him as long as possible. The older man was only beginning to come down off the high of orgasm when Shouichi followed him over the edge, his voice breaking as he cried out.

For a moment the world went fuzzy, and Shouichi wallowed in the ecstasy of it. Had it ever been this good with his other lovers? At the moment he couldn't remember a single other encounter, so it was hard to compare. Not that he _wanted_ to compare, not really. He just wanted to savour it as long as he could, and store it up against the long, long months that were going to pass between visits.

When he came back to himself he found Shishido's strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him close to the tennis pro's solid body. Shouichi's face was buried in the junction of Shishido's neck and shoulder, and he was startled to realize he was crying. _Sobbing_ , actually, and shaking with the release of tension he'd been carrying around with him for more than six years.

"Shouichi?" Shishido's voice was hoarse, but the concern in it was clear. "Are you okay? Shou?"

"I'm... okay," he finally managed to say, hugging Shishido tightly in return. "I'm okay, it's just... a lot of things. Sorry."

"Nah, it's fine," Shishido assured him softly, loosening his grip enough to let him stroke Shouichi's shoulders. "I might be doing the same if you hadn't beaten me to it, honestly." Astonished at the very idea of Shishido crying over something like sex, Shouichi lifted his head to look up into his friend's - his lover's - eyes. There were no tears there, but there was a wellspring of emotion deeper than anything Shouichi could have imagined.

Impulsively he kissed the older man, keeping their gazes locked. When he pulled away again Shishido smiled, and ran a hand through his hair. "We've got a lot to relearn about each other," Shishido said. "But I think this is a pretty good start."

"A new beginning," Shouichi agreed, his voice rough. "How many people get a chance to start over fresh? Ryou... maybe it's too soon to say this, but I love you. I still love you, I think I always have."

"It probably is too soon, but I don't care," Shishido chuckled softly. "I love you too, no matter what name I have to call you by. Never did manage to stay with anyone else longer than a month or two. None of them ever came close to understanding me the way you did, even if we were supposedly platonic for nearly all our time together." The chuckle turned into a laugh. "Never found another doubles partner I could stand, either. Went back to singles after less than one season."

Smiling, Shouichi rested his head on Shishido's shoulder once more. In a moment they would have to move, separate and get cleaned up, then probably head to the bedroom. And then... well, they had a lot of lost time to make up for. It would be difficult, pretending they'd only just met in public, and his parents were going to kill him when they eventually forced him to bring his boyfriend home to meet them, but he could deal with all of that later.

Right now all he cared about was that he had his lover, his partner, in his arms once more. And this time he wasn't going to let anyone or anything tear them apart. "Together, we can face anything," he murmured, remembering their old promise to each other with a smile.

"Damn right we can," Shishido agreed, stroking his hair. "Just as long as we hang on to our trust in each other. And I swear, I will never doubt you again, no matter what. Choutarou or Shouichi, you're my partner and that's the end of it."


End file.
